


Infinite Bondage Jokes at Your Disposal and that’s the Best you can Come up With?

by thilesluna



Series: Parole Officer!AU [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bottom Derek Hale, Dirty Talk, Handcuffs, M/M, Parole Officer!AU, Top Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 02:15:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thilesluna/pseuds/thilesluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is a rookie parole officer and Derek is his first case. It was supposed to be easy but that's not how Stiles' life works, is it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Infinite Bondage Jokes at Your Disposal and that’s the Best you can Come up With?

The fact that Derek Hale is conspicuously absent from his parole meeting is really just the fucking cherry on the shit sundae of a day that Stiles is having. Derek was supposed to be an easy case. He’s only on parole because his crazy ex-girlfriend Kate, pushed him—naked—out of a car in front of a retirement home and public indecency is kind of frowned upon—even if several of the older women called the police station to ask about the ‘muscular nude man’ and left their numbers. Regardless, he’s supposed to be a cakewalk as Stiles’ first assignment and he’s really fucking shit up.

It’s not like Stiles has been having a great day today. In fact, his day is so far in the shitter that he’s thinking about leaving work early to go on a shake quest and maybe eat some curly fries—and by some, he means all. Like all the curly fries that have ever existed.

Jackson’s being a dick again and Scott’s too wrapped up in the new officer, Allison, to help Stiles out, so he resorts to letting the more senior officer push him around and give him the worst jobs to do. If Stiles has to get one more fucking cup of coffee because he’s the ‘rookie’, he’s going to punch someone and then he won’t be a rookie anymore because he’ll be fired and probably getting his own parole officer assigned to him.

And now, Derek Hale, his supposed cakewalk of a case is failing to report in. Derek has always been odd, ever since Stiles got his case. He makes weird comments to the P.O.—like about his uniform and his handcuffs. It’s unsettling but also very fucking hot because on a scale of one to stiflingly attractive, Derek is like a 19. Or like a 54.

He’s hot as fuck.

And it’s not the first time Derek has done this either. He actually does it kind of a lot and then Stiles has to go track him down and the asshole just—smirks. Laughs like it’s some fucking game of hide and seek.

So Stiles may or may not overreact when he finds out Derek has no-showed again. He’s pissed and having a shitty day. So sue him.

He fumes all the way to the crappy motel they track Derek down to, he grumbles as he parks his standard issue car (which, he wishes they would just let him use his jeep, because the car fucking blows), and he may or may not throw open the door to the room with more gusto than needed.

He opens his mouth to give Derek a piece of his mind but all the thoughts he’s ever had in his like rush from his head and float away to fucking Gallifrey or something because Derek Hale is naked and—oh Jesus fucking Christ—Derek’s somehow handcuffed himself to the bed. He’s spread out like a fucking gift from whatever Greek God he’s modeled after. Stiles stops in the doorway, his mouth agape and his cock tenting the front of his pants, half hard just from looking at his assigned parolee spread-eagle on a dingy motel bed (he distinctly remembers his dad saying, “This’ll be easy Stiles, he was only in on technicality, he’s a good kid” and THANKS DAD because he’s pretty sure Derek Hale is going to kill him).

“Hello Officer,” Derek says, a manic glint in his eye, “I’ve been pretty damn bad—you’re here to punish me, right?”

“What are you doing?” And wow, Stiles definitely just _squeaked_ out that question like he was a teenager and not a fully functioning adult with a job in law enforcement.

The other man just stares at him, a smirk pulling at his lips. “I’ve been waiting for you. And not just today. I’ve been flirting with you since the day we met and I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands.”

Stiles swallows audibly and Derek laughs. The door swings shut and Stiles didn’t even realize his hand had moved to close it. The predatory smile is back on Derek’s mouth and it somehow goes straight to the officer’s dick. The parolee tugs gently on his restraints where they’re threaded through the headboard. “I’d come over there, but I’m a little—tied up.”

Stiles groans. “Infinite bondage jokes at your disposal and that’s the best you can come up with?”

Derek laughs again. “Just get the fuck over here and take off your fucking clothes.”

And Stiles definitely doesn’t trip—twice—while trying to remove his pants and he totally does NOT get his head stuck in his shirt. He’s down to his boxer-briefs before he realizes what the fuck he’s doing. “Holy god, we can’t do this!”

“Yes we can,” Derek growls. “Get over here and fuck me.”

And Jesus, Stiles never thought he’d hear someone like Derek saying something like that to him. He’s all skinny arms and stringy legs and Derek—he’s like sculpted from fucking marble. It makes him dizzy and he can’t help but palm his cock through his underwear.

Derek stares at him through half-lidded eyes and licks his lips and Christ, Stiles never really stood a chance because this is about 50 times better than any jerk-off fantasy he’s been having about this man. He pushes off his last layer of clothing and gives his dick a feeble pull that has Derek growling at him again.

“Fuck, that’s gonna feel so good inside me.”

Jesus. Fucking. Christ. “Shit, you can’t fucking say shit like that, Derek. I’m on a fucking hair trigger here because incase you haven’t noticed, you’re like some sort of fake supermodel person who wants me to _fuck him_ ,” Stiles whines.

Derek just grins wildly and says, “I’ve been thinking about it. What you’d feel like.” And fucking no, Stiles can’t because he’s going to come from the sex-laden voice of this man before he even has the chance to penetrate. “I thought about taking your uniform off with my teeth and how you’d fuck me and then later, when we’re ready to go again, I could fuck you. You wanna ride me, Stiles?”

Stiles licks his lips and looks down at where Derek is now half hard and well on his way to full on boner. He thinks that, yes. He’d be very much amenable to riding Derek’s dick, but he’s got stuff to do first.

Namely, fuck Derek within an inch of his life.

He tugs on himself again. “Lube? Condom?”

“Under the pillow,” Derek purrs. Stiles climbs his way over the other man’s body, stopping here and there to suck bruises onto the skin of his chest and to swirl his tongue over Derek’s nipples until they’re peaked and sensitive and he’s arching into the touch. “Stiles,” he moans and fuck, Stiles needed to be fucking him like yesterday.

He finally retrieves the lube and little foil packet but stops on his way back down Derek’s body to capture the man’s lips with his own and Derek’s mouth is so hot, his tongue is slick and teasing as it tangles with Stiles’. He thinks he could possibly kiss Derek forever.

If there wasn’t so much fucking about to happen, that is.

The other man moans into his mouth when Stiles’ free hand finds his cock and gives it’s a few strokes. Stiles sinks back down into the V of Derek’s legs, dripping lube onto his fingers only to discover that Derek is already slick and partly open and he has to use his free hand to pinch tight around the base of his cock so he doesn’t come just from that. He looks up at the other man and Derek, the asshole, is smirking at him like he’s the cat that ate the canary. Stiles wants to wipe that smile off his face so he plunges three fingers in to the second knuckle and watches as Derek eyes slam shut and his back arches off the bed. He works his hand slowly, pushing in and searching for the man’s prostate and he knows when he finds it because Derek fucking _howls_. It sends a shiver down Stiles’ back but he doesn’t stop because the clench of the man around his fingers is fucking heaven.

He presses down again, the same spot and Derek is panting, gasping for air. His eyes fly open and he pulls at his handcuffs so hard the wood of the headboard groans in protest. “St-Stiles,” he grounds out. “You have—fuck you have to stop—I can’t—I need you to fuck me. Christ—just _fuck me_ , Stiles.”

And that’s pretty much it. Stiles’ hands shake as he rolls on the condom over himself and slicks it up with what’s probably too much lube. He’s never been this turned on in his life.

He looks down at Derek where he’s still spread wide like a gift for the ancient gods that always seem to crave a hot body as a sacrifice and, God, he wants Derek like this always. Stiles lines himself up and sinks slowly into the heat of the other man’s body, each new inch stealing his breath and dragging a strangled sound from his throat.

Derek doesn’t look like he’s fairing any better. His eyes are squeezed shut and the muscles of his arms are so fucking tense in their restraints that they look like they hurt.

“Oh fuck—Jesus fucking—Derek you’re so fucking tight. I can’t—you’re fucking perfect. I could stay here forever--fuck,” Stiles is saying as he bottoms out, barely aware of what actual words are coming out of his mouth.

“That awesome, Stiles, but if you don’t start fucking me right now I’m going to rip your throat out. With my teeth,” Derek groans.

“Ten four, good buddy.”

And he does. He goes slow at first, pushing and pulling—each time going out a little farther, pushing in a little harder. Derek’s arching his back and doing his best to fuck himself down onto Stiles’ cock and making these breathy little sounds every time Stiles’ balls slap against the skin of his ass. His cock is hard and leaking, his skin glistening with sweat and the officer can’t help thinking how fucking beautiful Derek looks like this, so he tells him.

“God, fucking gorgeous like this with my dick in you. Look at you, fucking gagging for it, aren’t you?” he says and, fuck, he should not have read that possessive!Destiel fanfiction before coming to work today because it’s apparently fucked with his brain.

Derek’s not complaining though. If anything, he seems to fucking love it. “Fuck yes! Fuck me harder, Stiles. Fuck I want to be able to feel you all tomorrow. I wanna walk fucking crooked—“ The man pushes himself down hard and moans.

Stiles growls at that and fits his hands behind Derek’s knees, pushing them up and out so Derek can’t move. “Stop acting like a fucking slut, Derek, and let me fuck you properly.” He drives in hard and the other man keens as he hits his prostate dead on.

He fucks Derek hard, fast, unforgiving. He fucks him until the man cries out and comes untouched, his come streaking his chest. Stiles releases one knee even as he continues moving inside Derek to run his fingers through the release and push them into Derek’s waiting mouth. The other man moan and sucks them greedily, like they’re the best thing he’s ever tasted and Stiles has a vision of Derek sucking his cock like that and it’s enough to send him barreling over the edge. His hips stutter, falter a few times before he’s pushing in as far as he can go and emptying himself into the condom and crashing his lips against Derek’s in a bruising kiss.

Later, when Stiles undoes the handcuffs and they’re both lying on their backs, the sweat drying slowly on their skin, he snorts out a laugh. Derek’s eyebrows rise as he turns his face toward his parole officer.

“I still can’t believe you went with a ‘tied up’ joke,” Stiles chuckles.

Derek hits him in the face with a pillow.

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a tumblr prompt. Also because there needs to be more bottom!Derek everywhere


End file.
